


Silver Fox Presenting with Mystacial Vibrissae

by SurelyMeretricious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Mustaches, Mystrade fluff, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurelyMeretricious/pseuds/SurelyMeretricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade returns from a trip with something new attached to his face and it is preposterous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Fox Presenting with Mystacial Vibrissae

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Chucksauce for notes on this thing I wrote while half awake.  
> And thank you to PissyChrissyKat for all the love and support!
> 
> I was told to write something silly to break up my usual depressing angst :)
> 
> (rated teen for Language)

   “What the hell is that sprouting from Gerard’s face?” Sherlock blurted fervently.

   “Gerard?  What?  Where?” John pressed, leaning over the corpse, eyes scanning for some clue he obviously missed that Sherlock obviously hadn’t.  Of course, he didn’t find anything anyone could remotely refer to as “sprouting” on the victim’s face, so John looked to Sherlock for more direction.  But Sherlock’s spine was as straight as a pin, eyes locked on something in the distance behind John.

   John groaned.  Clearly, he had realised the error.  Not his, but Sherlock’s.

   With a glare that could melt glaciers, he looked like he wanted to strangle Sherlock out of sheer exasperation, a common enough desire.

   “For the last time, Sherlock, his name is Greg.  G-R-E-G, Greg.”

   “Irrelevant,” Sherlock huffed as he waved his hand between them.  “What the fuck is on his face?”

   It was rare enough for Sherlock to swear so, and it made John choke on a laugh.  Sherlock was just so transfixed that John was well and truly affected as well.  

   Using his splayed fingers for balance, John shifted his crouch on the ball of one foot to get a glimpse of what had so appalled and offended his friend.

   And boy, was it shocking.

   Lestrade had been away on a much needed holiday for a month, and had only returned just before they had gotten the call.  Which is how Sherlock and John arrived on the scene before him.  Thus missing his glorious entrance.  Donovan’s jaw was attempting to succumb to the inevitable pull of gravity and everyone else had gone silent.  

   Only Lestrade himself seemed unaware of the effect he was having on the now choked atmosphere.  And he was one of New Scotland Yard’s finest.  

   Sherlock stood quickly as one pale hand dove into a deep coat pocket, retrieving his mobile and dialing it in short order.  The smirk on his face looked downright devious.

   John simply couldn’t look away from the silver caterpillar dangling precariously over their friend’s upper lip and neither could Sherlock.  It was the rarest of species and absolutely captivating.  They would probably not see another that could compare to it in their lifetime.  It was their Halley’s Comet.

   John was absolutely entranced and thus missed the fact that Sherlock was now talking quite loudly on his phone.  

   “Have you seen him?” he practically shouted.

   “Is this a new game, brother mine?”  The voice at the other end came through syrup-sweet and somehow already bored of the topic.  “Fine.  If I must play.  Does your person have a beard?”

   “It’s not a game, Mycroft, but you are surprisingly within range,” Sherlock hissed excitedly, like a child talking back to their parents quickly, drunk on their own alleged power and hoping the shock will stop or at least delay the inevitable repercussions.  

   On the other end of the line, Mycroft heaved the heaviest of sighs for his burdensome brother.  Slowly, he said, “What is it this time, Sherlock?”

   Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

   “How can you not have seen it?  You?  You see everything.  Honestly, Mycroft, you ought to pay more attention.  After all, this is the one goldfish you haven’t had to flush down the toilet.”

   “Are you speaking literally or metaphorically?”

   Sherlock grunted through his teeth, losing patience.  He was supposed to have heard cries of protest from Mycroft at least a minute before and the wait was garnering no satisfaction.  

   Speaking as rapidly as physically possible, Sherlock spat, “Justlookatthedamncamera!”

   There was a moment’s pause before Sherlock heard the familiar whir of a CCTV lens changing position.  Then, finally, Mycroft croaked, “Oh, dear Lord.”

   Sherlock’s head flew back in laughter as he rang off, mission completed.  

   “It’s just so terrible I can’t look away,” John whispered from where he still crouched on the ground.  Sherlock giggled in agreement and John joined in, their combined laughter echoing along the cold, wet alley still occupied by a man recently removed from the land of the living.  

   Just when they thought they were done laughing, a Giant Voice sounded from some unknown source, though the speaker was well-known to them.  

   “Gregory!  Shave that hideous thing off immediately or do not attempt to come home!”

   Everyone took a proper moment to look surprised before bursting into gales of laughter, tears forming in the creases of their eyes.    
   Greg just stood there in shock.  Eventually, a smile crept over his face as he found the nearest camera and shrugged his concession.

 

 


End file.
